everybody, French and foreign, and gave me most amusing and useful little sketches of all the celebrities. It was he who told me of old Prince Gortschakoff's famous phrase when he heard of Thiers's death--(he died at St. Germain in 1877)--"Encore une lumière éteinte quand il y en a si peu qui voient clair,"--(still another light extinguished, when there are so few who see clearly). Many have gone of that group,--Casimir Périer, Léon Say, Jules Ferry, St. Vallier, Comte Paul de Ségur, Barthélemy St. Hilaire,--but others remain, younger men who were then beginning their political careers and were eager to drink in lessons and warnings from the old statesman, who fought gallantly to the last. I found the first winter in Paris as the wife of a French deputy rather trying, so different from the easy, pleasant life in Rome. That has changed, too, of course, with United Italy and Rome the capital, but it was a small Rome in our days, most informal. I don't ever remember having written an invitation all the years we lived in Rome. Everybody led the same life and we saw each other all day, hunting, riding, driving, in the villas in the afternoon, generally finishing at the Pincio, where there was music. All the carriages drew up and the young men came and talked to the women exactly as if they were at the opera or in a ballroom. When we had music or danced at our house, we used to tell some well-known man to say "on danse chez Madame King ce soir." That was all. Paris society is much stiffer, attaches much more importance to visits and reception days. There is very little informal receiving, no more evenings with no amusement of any kind provided, and a small table at one end of the room with orangeade and cakes, which I remember when I was first married (and always in Lent the quartet of the Conservatoire playing classical symphonies, which of course put a stop to all conversation, as people listened to the artists of the Conservatoire in a sort of sacred silence). Now one is invited each time, there is always music or a comédie, sometimes a conference in Lent, and a buffet in the dining-room. There is much more luxury, and women wear more jewels. There were not many tiaras when I first knew Paris society; now every young woman has one in her corbeille. [Illustration: The foyer of the Opéra.]